


So I wait until I die

by RocioWrites



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:30:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1679912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RocioWrites/pseuds/RocioWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Alcohol CW] He just sits there, remembering old times, faded kisses and soft caresses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So I wait until I die

**Author's Note:**

> ALCOHOL CONSUMPTION CONTENT WARNING

Written for the [Criminal Minds Prompt Meme on LJ](http://cmpromptmeme.livejournal.com/). [Round Four: Lyrics](http://cmpromptmeme.livejournal.com/1638.html?thread=186470#t186470).

Prompt: Reid/Ethan - I sit, wait, and I’m all alone/ But I can’t go home/ ’Cause you’re my home

[*](http://thezwuzimaster.tumblr.com/post/54487296854/he-misses-and-wants-his-home-back-and-fuck-because)

It feels just like drowning in sorrow and alcohol. It’s better than the other stuff he has tried but then again, it doesn’t really matter when he’s on the floor of his tiny apartment, producing some obscure melody in his borrowed piano. He sings along, something sad about a long lost lover and awful heartbreaks.

It’s only fair, he doesn’t have his heart in shape anyway. There’s a scar there that he did to himself so he won’t complain about the pain. (However, it stings so much, it  _hurts_.)

He just sits there, remembering old times, faded kisses and soft caresses. The way Spencer’s voice used to tremble and call his name, the way they both held onto each other. And now, he lives in a dark place where his only companion is the almost useless piano.

He has written some doodles in a paper in front of him, maybe a letter? _Dear Reid_  he mutters to himself in disbelief, taking the paper in one hand and the glass in the other. Since when does he write these things?

God, he will send it, he knows. He will repeat the phonecall too, not now but in a few weeks maybe. And it’s stupid and consuming and he will do it just to know Spencer is still alive and they’re still kind of… whatever they are. They were always something, now it’s not an exception.

Ethan has made so many mistakes in his short life, but abandon Spencer was the worst. He left a part of himself that the other hadn’t kept safe and now is lost forever. Sometimes he wonders what would have happened if he had stayed, would they be happy? It’s hard to imagine, happiness doesn’t come just like that.

The notes turn darker and his voice is dry and raspy in his own ears but he keeps singing, his foggy mind doesn’t know if he’s singing some famous song or he’s just improvising. He giggles stupidly mid-song, because seriously, how come he’s singing about missing Spencer and his annoying little lectures?

And it’s true. He misses all that and more. He misses the way they used to turn everything into some sort of competition and the way they always decided the winner after having sex. He misses those magical and amazing hands, those soft lips. He wants back that power Spencer has that makes Ethan stop drinking.

He misses and wants his home back and  _fuck_  because Spencer is his home and he has lost it. He just laughs then, because he can’t get back his love and he can’t get back what they used to have. And all the nights he drinks himself to sleep, composing songs about love, sorrow and his broken and stupid heart, are for nothing. Ethan’s waiting for some light, some hope that Spencer won’t give.

Well, it’s too late.

Years back he was kissing him, holding him, promising things he knew he wouldn’t keep. He dreams of those years, when he was naive and thought he could make Spencer happy. Why did he let go anyway? Moving forward wasn’t that important, he didn’t need that. He needed his Spencer, great. He still does, he still needs his Spencer.

It doesn’t matter what he drinks or takes or sings, every night and every morning ends the same way: he passes out thinking about what he no longer has and won’t ever get back.


End file.
